


Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

by Amberstarry



Series: Dream Daddy Stories [3]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Dancing, Embarrassment, M/M, Music, Underwear, Voyeurism, bad dancing, dadsona is a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 02:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11773719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberstarry/pseuds/Amberstarry
Summary: House to myself, stripped down for maximum comfort, listening to good music. What could possibly go awry?





	Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

I listened to the rumble of the car fade into the night as Amanda pulled out of the driveway, headed for Emma. R’s party. I hoped she had fun there, she deserved it after such a grueling year of study. I’d have to trust her to stay out of trouble and not get too drunk tonight. She still thought I didn’t know about that, but of course I totally did. It’s hard to wash the smell of alcohol from your breath, and it’s even harder to disguise your drinking when you come home tipsy, fall into your dad’s arms and have a twenty-minute-long giggle fit. Needless to say it was kind of adorable that she still thought she had me deceived, but I really didn’t mind. As long as she didn’t drive afterwards that is. But enough about Amanda! Tonight was all about me. I finally had the house all to myself and the inexplicable urge to boogie my cares away.

In true alone-time fashion I stripped down to my t-shirt and underwear for maximum comfort, after which I walked to the closet and proceeded to pull out the old record player. It had been a while since this thing had seen the light of day; I rarely, if ever, bothered to bring it out but I felt like tonight was a perfect time to break the pattern - or lack thereof, so to speak. I placed it on the coffee table and went to the bookshelf to browse my collection. “Choices, choices,” I muttered to myself as I flicked through the records. It needed to be something energetic, something to dance to. I scanned title after title for the album that caught my eye until - “Aha! Perfect!” I pulled out my ABBA best hits record and threw it onto the turntable. Before starting the music up I hurried out of the room to collect my sunglasses and hairbrush - because you just couldn’t have a music sesh without those items. I mean really, if you didn’t have a brush-microphone what were you doing with your life?

Once I had everything I needed I returned to the living room and gently placed the needle onto the record. The opening synthesiser notes to one of my favourite songs filled the room and I felt my foot conjure up a life of its own, involuntarily tapping in time. That was just the warm-up though; I began to rock my hips to the beat and suavely flicked my sunglasses down from the top of my head so they covered my eyes. The baseline coursed through me like a bolt of lightning and I lifted my hairbrush to my lips as the impending lyrics burst out of the record player’s speakers:

“Half past twelve! I’m watchin' the late show in my flat all alone, how I hate to spend the evening on my own…” I began to tap my feet, really feeling myself slip into the pure energy of the song. I belted out the verse with as much verve as I could muster, channeling all my tensions into raw musical energy.

Soon enough the iconic keyboard riff was reverberating through the house and I didn’t even bother trying to stop myself as I threw off my sunglasses, jumped onto the couch and screeched out the chorus. “GIMME, GIMME, GIMME A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT! WON’T SOMEBODY HELP ME CHASE THE SHADOWS AWAY? GIMME, GIMME, GIMME A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT, TAKE ME THROUGH THE DARKNESS TO THE BREAK OF THE DAY!” It only occurred to me later that this was possibly the single gayest thing I’d ever done, and that included my entire relationship with Alex.

I threw my head from side to side, lifting and lowering my arms in tandem with the beat. It had been a long time since I had gotten into my music like this, it made me feel young and vibrant again. Somehow I was maintaining the momentum I had worked up, it actually amazed me that these old muscles weren’t waving the white flag yet. I guess Craig was right, those early morning runs really were great for building up stamina. My mop of hair flew to and fro as I whipped my head around, singing along like a dorky, wannabe rockstar.

The entirety of my body swayed rhythmically as the next verses played and the chorus repeated. When the coda began I lifted the brush to my face yet again, starting to slowly tilt my head back as it built into a glorious crescendo: “There's not a soul out there, no one to hear my prayeeeeeeeeeer!” I prided myself on being able to hold a note for an unprecedented amount of time - it was one of my better hidden talents, but part of my repertoire nonetheless. Unfortunately my skill wasn’t really exhibited in this instance because I choked on the note halfway through, a laugh interrupting my passionate vocalisation. I looked behind me to see the curtains open and Robert standing outside, clearly amused by the show.

To say I was mortified would have been an understatement. I dropped the brush and quickly hopped down from the couch, scrambling to pull the curtains closed and nearly falling over my own feet in the process. How long had they been open? Why didn’t I notice this beforehand? A curse fell from my lips and I turned away from the window. I realised the song was beginning to fade out and walked over to the record player, pulling up the needle and wincing at the resulting record scratch. Now that it was quiet again I listened to see if I could still hear anything, but as far as I could tell the laughter had ceased. Maybe I had just been seeing things… and hearing them. To be certain I walked over to the door and slowly opened it, jumping back in fright when I found myself directly face-to-face with my worst nightmare.

Robert smirked at me and gestured to the inside of the house with his chin. “I couldn’t help but overhear your little karaoke session. Nice dancing by the way.”

I stood there awkwardly, not sure how to respond. “Thanks, I guess. It would have been nice if you’d told me you were coming over.”

Robert shrugged. “What’s the fun in that?”

“Well, having you stare through my window is kind of creepy.”

He shrunk slightly and looked away from me. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had every intention of walking straight up to your door…” The smirk returned to his face and he focused back on me. “But when I caught sight of you through the open curtains I couldn’t help myself.”

I cursed again, not caring that Robert was right in front of me. Those curtains could go to hell. And the windows. Why did houses have windows anyway? So people could spy on you for fun? That’s it, if I ever move again the next house is not having windows. A man needs his privacy, goddamn it.

“You talk like that around Amanda?” Robert asked, reverting back to his default unreadable expression.

Was he questioning my parenting skills? I bristled slightly at that. “I do whatever the _fuck_ I want,” I said, puffing my chest out in an admittedly futile attempt to assert dominance.

Robert tried to stifle his laughter but a tiny bit of it escaped nonetheless. “Okay then, tough guy. Do you want to let me in? Or are you going to exercise your right as big boss dad to kick me off your property?.”

I wanted to respond with a witty retort but the breeze coming through the doorway stopped me. I became acutely aware of my bare legs and - holy shit, I was still in my underwear. I’m sure Robert had noticed but he obviously had the decency to not point it out and make things weird. That put me in an even awkwarder position, however, because now I had no choice but to pretend I wasn’t brazenly parading around in my tighty-whities - lest I make things a thousand times more embarrassing for myself. Could I do that with him _in_ my house? Ah, fuck it, it’s not like I had any more dignity to lose at this point. “Yeah, right,” I mumbled, stepping aside for him as I wondered just how many ways one man could humiliate himself in a single night. I must have been setting new records.

He took his cue and walked past me as I closed the door and turned around. Robert shrugged off his leather jacket. He hung it over his arm and surveyed his surroundings. This was the first time I had invited him into my house, and I wondered what thoughts were going through his mind. I knew from my time at his own house that Robert was not much of an interior decorator; if I had to describe his style I would probably call it rustic-minimalist. He would probably call it _I don’t give a shit_ , and I think that would be just as fitting. His eyes fixed on the feature wall I had covered in framed photographs. I watched silently as he walked up to it and began examining each picture thoughtfully.

“These are good,” he said, flicking his eyes from one photo to the next.

I joined him and smiled. “These are all Amanda’s. She hates me for this wall, says it’s super cringey - whatever that means - but I think her work deserves to be shown off.”

“The kid’s got talent,” Robert agreed. “I have stockpiles of Val’s photographs. I never put them up.” He went quiet. “Maybe I should.”

The mood suddenly dropped and I found my feet moving me towards the kitchen to distract from it. “Hey, come with me. I’ll get you something to drink.”

Robert’s eyes lingered on the wall for a few more moments before he turned away and began to follow. In my peripheral vision I could see him continue to take in everything he walked past. My inner monologue started rambling, he was probably scrutinising everything, realising just how lame I was. All of my strength went into suppressing the cacophony bouncing around in my brain - the part of me listening to it all sighed and reassured me I was just being paranoid. I wasn’t sure if I believed it, but it had a lot more clarity to it than the other voices. We reached the kitchen and I opened the fridge, peering in to see what I could offer.

“We have cold water, milk, orange juice - and I think that’s an energy drink,” I relayed back to Robert. “Amanda is kind of addicted to those, but if you want it I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Robert looked unimpressed. “Got anything… stronger?”

It took me a second to click, but when I understood what he was asking for I let out an "oh," of realisation and turned around to the pantry. I honestly wasn’t much of a drinker anymore - this dad stomach couldn’t handle it like it used to, and I sorely regretted it the next day. However I did have one or two bottles lying around, acquired from family functions where I'd been given them as gifts because no adults never knew what to buy each other. My eyes scanned the shelves and I zeroed in on the first sight of alcohol. Reaching my hand in I pulled out a bottle of cider and placed it on the kitchen island. “Is this okay?”

He glanced down at it and shrugged. “It’ll do.”

I pulled out two glasses and filled them with cider. Robert immediately picked his up and downed half the glass. We headed back into the living area, with me bringing the cider along, and sat down together. My hands immediately reached for my shirt and I self-consciously pulled it over my knees when Robert wasn’t looking. He picked up the empty ABBA cover on the coffee table to take a look at it.

“ABBA, huh?” He said it in a grunt. “Never heard of them.”

Every part of me wanted to jump up and cry outrage at this information, but like a civilised adult I schooled my incredulity and calmly took a sip of my cider instead. “Really? They’re one of my favourites.”

“Why?”

I took a moment to ponder before answering. “I like it because it’s fun and energetic.”

Robert took a gulp of his cider. “It sounded pretty gay.”

“Hey! You can’t assign a sexuality to music,” I objected, probably a bit more defensively than was necessary.

Robert just stared at me. “You were singing about wanting a man after midnight.”

“Yeah, well-” I cut myself off, at a loss for how to respond. He had me there. I settled on putting it back on him rather than trying to justify myself. “Like you can talk.”

He chuckled. “Touche. But I’m actually bisexual, I did have a wife, remember?”

I nodded, recalling the night Robert had collapsed into my arms in the one instance of vulnerability he’d ever shown me. That had been the only time Robert had brought up his wife, and he hardly ever talked about his past, so it was easy to forget that he was once in a committed monogamous relationship. My stomach turned, ashamed that such vital information had slipped my mind. I was a shitty friend.

“Is this disco?” Robert asked, ignoring my pensiveness.

“Yeah,” I said, “the best music to boogie to.”

Robert put the cover down. “That explains why I’ve never heard of it. I hate disco.”

I gave him the side eye and shot him a smirk. “You seemed to be enjoying it enough when you were standing outside my window.” I triggered something with that remark because Robert picked up his glass and downed the rest of his cider in one fell swoop.

“I was enjoying your gyrations more,” he answered simply, placing the glass back on the table. My face reddened as I was brought back to my crappy dancing and the fact that I had been - and currently still was - in nothing but my t-shirt and underwear, shaking my ass in front of an open window for all the world to see. Robert sensed my discomfort and chuckled, scooching closer to me on the couch. “Don’t worry, it was cute.”

The blood that had been pooling in my face very quickly found another area it wanted to go to. I cleared my throat as I stared into Robert’s intense dark eyes while he silently implicated his desires. Could I do this, I wondered in my head, trying to rationalise what was happening. What time was it? When was Amanda going to get home? Would I have time? Well, I suppose it could just be a quickie - but would Robert agree to that, or would he insist on something more substantial? I couldn’t say I wouldn’t prefer to draw it out but - wait a minute, what was I thinking? Robert was my friend! This was inappropriate. My dad sense was screaming at me to wrap up the evening and politely decline - if something went wrong, Robert lived next door and that would be super uncomfortable. I’d still have to see him at the community events Joseph ran every month. That was just bad juju. Even worse, what if it went badly and it ended up affecting Amanda? I couldn’t do that to her, I couldn’t -

“Would you stop thinking,” Robert interjected, hijacking my mental tangent. “I can actually see the cogs turning in your head. It’s fine for two adults to have some fun. Live a little.”

The part of me which was listening to the continuous back and forth in my brain shouted over the noise to relax and go for it, and before I really knew what I was doing my lips were on Robert’s and my hands were cupping the back of his neck. He tasted of cider - surprise surprise - and so did I. In the back of my mind I contemplated what a wild night this had become - going from a solo ABBA dance party to a full-blown sexual encounter. Oh how the turntables.

On the other end Robert responded enthusiastically, pushing back into me with zeal. I squeaked when his hand cupped me. He pulled away from the kiss with a cheeky grin. “Gimme, gimme, gimme!”

I giggled. I actually _giggled_ like a schoolgirl. “I thought you hated disco.”

“I do, but that seemed appropriate,” Robert replied in a low voice, dipping back in for another kiss. “FYI, tighty-whities suit you,” he spoke into my lips as he shoved his other hand up my shirt.

If he had of said that earlier I might have made a bitter remark about it, but right now I couldn’t give less of a crap. I moaned and found myself being pushed back against the couch as Robert became more aggressive, which I didn’t mind at all. He moved from my lips to my neck and I closed my eyes, relishing the feeling of his stubble against my skin.

Unfortunately my mouth had a mind of its own, and words began spilling out before I could stop them. “What would a guy have to do to have more than… _fun_ with you?” I don’t even know why I asked, I hadn’t been thinking about it before. In fact I had been questioning whether or not I should even kiss him. But this was nice, and I liked Robert. And _somebody_ had to educate the man in good music.

He pulled back and looked at me. “What do you mean?”

A strand of his hair fell over his eyes and I instinctively ran a hand through his fringe. “What if I wanted this to be permanent?”

Robert bit his lip and looked down, which in the position we were in translated into him looking at his own chest. I waited silently, but It didn’t take long for him to return his gaze to me. “I don’t think you’d be able to put up with me.” He said it with a humourous twang, but there was no laughter in his eyes.

“I think you’d be surprised,” I countered.

His expression softened and he stroked my cheek. “You don’t have to do anything. Except go cryptid hunting with me. We will find those fuckers if it’s the last thing we do.”

A chuckle escaped me. “I can do that.”

Robert grinned. “Then I can do you.”

I tugged him down into another kiss. ABBA played in my mind, and I mentally laughed at myself. Only I could get into these situations - _ah_ \- okay, there would be time for this later when Robert wasn’t squeezing me through my underpants. A sigh escaped my lips and I knew I was going to give myself over completely at this point. Before things became really heated and I fell into passionate oblivion, one last thought crossed my mind:

Okay, windows weren’t that bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I got inspiration for this after having an ABBA sesh and I won't lie, I wrote this purely for the beginning because I couldn't get the image of Dadsona dancing around in his underwear like a maniac to _Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!_ out of my head.
> 
> For anybody who is wondering, the song referenced in the story is _Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)_ by ABBA. If you haven't heard it before I highly recommend you check it out, it's catchy as hell and it will help you visualise the ridiculousness of Dadsona's antics. 
> 
> Also, the reason this is a Dadsona/Robert fic is because Robert was the only one I could imagine being out late enough to catch Dadsona in the act. None of the other dads seemed to fit in this scenario. 
> 
>    
>  **Amber*****


End file.
